


Idle Speculation

by Elise_Davidson



Series: 40 Snapshots [21]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: 03. End, 40 Snapshots, But seriously who won, Gen, Implied Relationships, Malcolm is properly scandalized, Soval Shran or Hernandez, T'Pol runs numbers like a bookie, Travis and Hoshi gossip about Archer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:03:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Davidson/pseuds/Elise_Davidson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travis and Hoshi gossip.  Malcolm is aghast that they would discuss the captain's life and Travis leaves.  Then T'Pol joins the table and runs numbers, because even though Vulcans do not gamble or gossip, they damn well run numbers.</p>
<p>Also, T'Pol predicts all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idle Speculation

**Author's Note:**

> So, HUGE shoutout to MissCupcakeFiend and Justsimplymeagain for this idea. This story came from comment threads wherein a betting pool was talked about pertaining to WHO Archer would get together with and WHEN. Could be related to the other Archer/Shran fics I've written.
> 
> Personal note: some part of me is stupidly amused with T'Pol being able to predict relationships using numbers XD
> 
> Beta'd by LegacySoulReaver, who kindly pointed out that the "betting pool" idea wouldn't hold water seeing as I couldn't come up with a commodity on Enterprise that would be of value to EVERYBODY but was somehow in short supply ^^; Instead of the betting pool, I went with people just having a conversation instead.
> 
> Other remaining mistakes are my own.

  1. End



 

Hoshi gestured with her fork in the mess hall distractedly in thought.  “You really think it’ll be him on _that_ specific day?”  She seemed to realize she was all but waving her fork and stilled her hand.

Travis raised his hands defensively, but his frame was still casual and easy-going.  “Hey, I just know what I see.  And you can see a lot from my position.”

Hoshi laughed.  “Not as much as I hear.”  She looped her fork around some of the remaining pasta on her tray.  “And I’m _telling_ you, that’s not what’s going to happen.”

Malcolm set his tray at the table.  “What’s not going to happen?” he asked as if he didn’t hear the joking in Hoshi’s voice.

Travis chuckled, ducking his head a bit.  “You don’t want to know, Lieutenant.”

Malcolm sat down, shoulders stiff and drawn like usual.  “Oh?  And what is it I don’t want to know, _Ensign_?”

Sometimes Travis really hated the way Reed had a way of injecting an order into calling someone by their rank.  “Well…it was just some…speculation really.”

“Idle speculation isn’t really a secret,” Malcolm pointed out.  “So…what’s not going to happen?”

Hoshi rolled her eyes as Travis grew slightly uncomfortable.  “We were just talking about the captain and his personal life.  Just gossip, really.”

Malcolm chewed his potatoes with a frown.  “That sounds…distasteful.  Why gossip when you can just ask?”

“Like he would answer honestly, and it’s not really something that any of you would ask him,” Hoshi responded, and then smirked.  “Well, I might ask him, but I’ve known the captain for years.”

Looking deeply uncomfortable with the conversation, Travis quickly wolfed down the rest of his dinner.  “So I’m just gonna go; I have an overnight bridge shift in about six hours and I want to get some sleep.”  He left quickly.

Malcolm looked after him curiously before turning to Hoshi.  “And just what was that about?”

Hoshi, always far more casual than most ensigns were, rolled her eyes good-naturedly.  “We were talking about Commander Shran’s upcoming visit and wondering if it might be the catalyst that pushes him and the captain together.”

Malcolm choked on whatever food he had been eating, face going red and eyes watering.  “Excuse me?” he asked in a scandalized tone.

Hoshi just smiled the same non-perturbed smile she often wore around senior officers—she didn’t seem to have the same reverence for chain of command, though that didn’t extend to her respect.  She clearly acknowledged authority figures, but was definitely more casual in settings like the mess hall or even sickbay.

“You heard me, Lieutenant,” Hoshi remarked and rolled her eyes again at Malcolm’s disturbed look.  “Oh, _please_ , you can’t tell me those two haven’t been dancing around each other for _ages_.  Travis thinks it’ll be Soval.”

This time, Malcolm quite literally spit out his tea, and looked mightily embarrassed for having done so as he wiped his mouth.  His ears were redder than the piping on his uniform.  “Are you actually serious?  I’m begging you to tell me you’re off your head.”

Okay, so there was a small part of Malcolm that tended to indulge Hoshi’s more at-ease qualities, possibly because he knew she didn’t exactly come from a military background.  There was also the fact she was confident in her translating abilities, and knew exactly why Starfleet had wanted her, and why they couldn’t do without her.

Hoshi smiled.  “No, we were just gossiping; that’s what I’m telling you.  Travis and I were making empty bets about who it would be and when.  I’m guessing Shran, but only because we’re due to rendezvous with him soon since Starfleet wants those injectors Trip told them about.”

Malcolm nodded in memory—god, that had been so long ago when the _Kumari_ had helped them in the Expanse, when things had seemed so terrible…that had been nearly five years ago at this point, and they were definitely headed towards this…”Federation” thing that Archer reminisced on sometimes.

“It’s entirely inappropriate to speculate about your captain’s personal life,” Malcolm muttered stubbornly, wondering why on earth Hoshi thought Shran and Travis thought Soval when the captain had seemed to close to Columbia’s captain, Erika Hernandez.  But then, as he had just said, it was completely inappropriate to gossip about your captain’s affairs.

“Oh, come on, Lieutenant,” Hoshi responded.  “It’s just for fun; we’ve got five more days of empty space to travel through before we even _reach_ the _Kumari_ , and I’ve more or less gotten Shran’s dialect down perfectly.  We’re just having some fun.”

Malcolm snorted.  “It’s hardly fun to simply _gossip_.”

T’Pol approached them, one hand holding a mug and the other holding a tray with a steaming bowl of plomeek broth and a PADD. “I have found that humans quite enjoy _gossip_ , actually.  If rather mundane, it provides entertainment.  May I sit with you?”

Malcolm was ready to say no when Hoshi gestured yes.

T’Pol sat, removing the PADD from the tray and turning a questioning face to Hoshi.  “Please, continue.  The captain has requested that I continue to make the effort to interact with other crew members, and as of this encounter, I can now inform him that I consumed my evening meal with others three nights this week.”  She turned back to her PADD, clearly engrossed in the information.

Hoshi chuckled and turned back to Malcolm.  “So who do _you_ think then?”

Malcolm shook his head.  “Oh, no; I’m not going to engage in this…distasteful behavior.”  He ducked his head down towards his meal.  “Besides, we all know it would be Captain Hernandez.”

Now Hoshi snorted.  “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would you say that?” Malcolm asked, clearly bewildered.

“Oh, Lieutenant…that ended three years ago,” Hoshi informed him.  “Being a captain is hard, and sometimes, the hardships between two captains aren’t the same.  It’s why my money is on Shran.  Captain Hernandez had different difficulties; I think Shran understands our captain’s issues perfectly.  It’s a bonding point.”

“But to place your full wager on the likes of _him_ …”

Hoshi looked confident though.  “A lot of words go through the universal translator that come out poorly, so far as intent goes.  Both the Andorian and Vulcan languages are hardly exceptions—there are sometimes words that just…can’t be translated properly, or they lose their meaning all together.  I’m telling you—unless Soval gives some kind of formal declaration or one of their more…dated rituals happens. It’s going to be Shran.”

An odd thing happened then—something that _nearly_ sounded like a scoff seemed to come from T’Pol, whose eyes still faced her PADD.  Her stance had undeniably changed though, so far as Hoshi could tell, while Malcolm looked at her in disbelief.

Malcolm shot an amused glance in her direction.  “Something to add?”

T’Pol tilted her head as she looked up.  “Vulcans do not engage in idle speculation.”

Hoshi smiled.  “But…if they _were_ …”

T’Pol looked almost…irritated.  It was difficult to tell at times, but having spent so much time together at this point, it was almost glaringly obvious that she was, indeed, somewhat annoyed.  “We also do not participate in gambling.”

Malcolm shared a brief, understanding look with Hoshi before turning back to T’Pol.  “But…if they _were_ ….”

T’Pol nearly rolled her eyes, but seemed to stop herself before completing the action, as if realizing it would be inappropriate.  “The Ambassador has all but declared his interest; the captain is not familiar with Vulcan rites.  _If_ I had to speculate, and, again, Vulcans do not _speculate_ ,” she leveled a heavy stare at Malcolm, “I would suggest it would be on July 4th.”

Hoshi frowned.  “This year?  Isn’t that the time we’re supposed to escort the Ambassador to Vulcan?  And that’s also when Shran agreed to serve as an Andorian liaison too.  That’s nearly three months from now.”

T’Pol looked down at her PADD again.  “Then take it for what you will.”

Hoshi looked exasperated.  “Okay, fine.  But _who_?”

Fingers tapping quickly over her PADD, T’Pol didn’t look up.  “You know our languages, Ensign.  I suggest you extrapolate from there.”

Hoshi huffed in irritation.  “ _Fine_ ,” she half-whined, half-agreed.  She began gathering her tray together.  “I have an early bridge shift; I should get some rest.  Lieutenant, Commander.”  Dropping her tray off, Hoshi left the mess hall.

Malcolm pushed around the bits of remaining food on his tray.  “You seemed rather certain, Commander.  Anything you care to share?”

T’Pol finished her plomeek broth and tea seamlessly.  “Would you hold my PADD while I return my tray?” she asked blandly.

Malcolm took the device, glancing down at what she had been working on as she left.  He smirked a bit, because while Vulcans did not “gamble” or “speculate”, she had certainly done a damn good job of running the statistics in theory, and, as he looked at the numbers, he was fairly certain he had to agree with her assessment.

“My PADD, Lieutenant?” T’Pol asked, holding her hand out.

Malcolm looked up with a grin.  “Yes, of course, Commander.”  He handed it back to her.

“By the way,” T’Pol continued, ducking her head a bit, “Major Hayes wished to speak with you.  I believe it was about training exercises, and his wish to do something more concurrent with you so that the results would be more…efficient.”

Malcolm nodded, the mention of Hayes putting an oddly sour (but tense) feel in the back of his throat.  “My thanks, Commander.”

T’Pol nodded.  “Think nothing of it, Lieutenant.  I am merely relaying a message.”  She watched as Malcolm agitatedly left the mess hall, and input a few more numbers into her PADD.

Vulcans did not gamble or speculate, but they definitely knew the benefit of running numbers.  The barest hint of a smirk graced the corners of her mouth as she read the results.  The unfortunate consequence was that she _knew_ what would happen, just by running the numbers.

If, to use a human colloquialism, the "numbers were right", Soval would end up very unhappy.

XXXXX


End file.
